Tears Falling
by morchaint
Summary: Nienna wonders about purpose. Features: Nienna, Lorien, and Mandos
1. Lorien

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Tolkien owns and I'm not making any profit off of this  
  
Summary: Nienna ponders about life, death, and souls. Features Nienna, Mandos, and Lorien  
  
Author's Note: I was asked (well, suggested. I asked for ideas) to write a Nienna fic. I have decided to write it, the ideas in this fic might be a bit spread out because I couldn't think of one common fact to write upon. Researching for parts about Nienna, I noticed that not much information was given about her. So some of the facts about Nienna might be my own assumption. This fic follows the 'Silmarillion' so Mandos and Lorien are Nienna's brothers.  
  
  
  
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Tears Falling  
  
Chapter 1- Lorien  
  
  
  
A lonely figure could be seen in the land of Aman, near the Sea upon the towering cliffs. Looking closer you could see that this figure was a woman, a woman seeming full of sorrow. Her hood covered her face, hiding and shadowing her beauty and veiling the expressions of sorrow upon it.  
  
Her raiment was grey, and it matched her mood. A gust of wind came from the Sea, and she lifted her head from its bowed position. Her eyes were full of sorrow and mourning, a torrent of emotion mirroring the Sea of which she looked at. She knew of the darkness, and she defied it in all ways she could. Even were it in the meekest way, she would do it. That included facing the chill of darkness, for this was Nienna, the Weeper. And she felt sorrow for all that has happened, and even possibly of what will happen, for she felt pity upon many things.  
  
As the sister of the Feanturi, Nienna too knew somewhat of spirits and souls. Of their healing, and of their release from their bodies, but she knew most of their sorrows and of the hurts upon the soul. Lorien healed hurt souls through dreams and visions, Mandos housed the souls of the Children and gave them counsel, and she mourned for them, their pain and grief and of what was to come.  
  
Sometimes she wondered about herself, what she was here for, her purpose. She was called the Weeper, for she mourned for all of the sorrows upon Arda and the sorrow of the Elves in the most part. For Elves were bound to Arda, and they would depart to whither she knew not when Arda was broken and remade. For only Mandos, Manwe and Iluvatar knew where.  
  
She turned and left the desolate area, and went to seek Irmo, Lorien, for she desired to speak to someone. Someone who would know and understand somewhat of her worries.  
  
  
  
She walked beneath the bows of the trees of Lorien, and she felt her burden lighten for a moment, but it was just a moment. For her burdens and sorrows were great, and she deemed that they would not be settled until Arda was broken and remade.  
  
The wind rustled the leaves above her and she looked up. Shadows flickered and the leaves moved in a dance with the wind, causing shadow and light to flicker upon the ground. Silver trees with golden leaves with silver surrounded her, but the air in Lorien was full of healing. She breathed in, the scent of earth filled her and it felt peaceful.  
  
Placing the palm of her hand upon the trunk of a tree, she felt the warmth of it. The bark of the tree was warm and she felt the life and growth within the tree. Closing her eyes she simply stood there, feeling the depth of life contained within the earth.  
  
She opened her eyes as she heard laughter. It was soft and the owner of it was not far, and she guessed who it was.  
  
Walking towards the sound she came next to a brook, and not surprisingly the voice belonged to Irmo, who is often called by the place of his dwelling, Lorien. She was greeted with the sight of her brother petting a fawn that had possibly come to get a drink of water. Mandos, Nienna and Lorien rarely laughed, unlike some of the other Valar. But Lorien was the quickest of the three to smile, and laugh. He would smile when any small or large creature was healed, and changed. Either by dream or illusion, or through the years and wisdom, he would smile and even laugh. She wondered what amused him so that he would laugh.  
  
He turned his head to her, his warm grey eyes meeting her darker ones. She always thought it strange that Lorien's eyes were a warm or light grey, hers grey, and Mandos' dark grey when they were in bodily form. Maybe it had something to do with their personalities, she did not know.  
  
"Nienna," Lorien greeted his sister. It almost seemed that he expected her, but of course he did. For Mandos, Lorien, and Nienna all had a special bond, and they could almost sense each other's presence, and their minds were open, except for what they could not reveal.  
  
"Lorien, may I inquire as to what has you so amused?" Nienna looked at the fawn, and fawn looked at her. It tilted its head a little and its shining black orbs for eyes seemed to examine her for a while.  
  
"Perhaps you should ask this fawn," Lorien replied putting his hand on the fawn's forehead.  
  
"Irmo," Nienna looked at her brother.  
  
Seeming to notice that he was not going to be the center of attention for much longer, the fawn nuzzled the palm of Lorien's hand and then left the brother and sister.  
  
"You seem troubled," Lorien went to his sister.  
  
"In a way, yes I am," Nienna sat down with her brother.  
  
"Will you tell me?"  
  
"Why do you suppose I came here?" Nienna sighed. "I have been wondering about life, healing, death, mourning, souls, and purpose."  
  
"Those are dark themes for the mind to dwell upon Nienna," Lorien picked up a leaf from the ground.  
  
"Yes, but these dark thoughts occupy my mind," Nienna watched as her brother turned the leaf in his hand.  
  
"Then tell me," Lorien said as he picked up another leaf.  
  
"What is our purpose? What is my purpose? You are the Master of Dreams and Illusions, Mandos is the Great Judge and he houses the souls of the dead Elves, and I? I am the Weeper," Nienna put her hand in the brook, feeling the cool water wash over her hand.  
  
"I cannot say I truly know, for much is clouded," there was a pause and Lorien then continued, "I see your eyes, but your face is hooded."  
  
Nienna took her hand out of the water and cast back her hood, and Lorien saw the face of Nienna, his sister.  
  
"Why do you always wear your hood up? Would it not be better to rejoice in the light, then be hidden in the shadow of your own making?" Lorien looked at his sister, her black hair went down her back, and it made her face seem paler than it was.  
  
"It is good to rejoice in the light, but I feel as if I am distanced to the light. Though it be near me, and my sorrows should not be brought forth into the glory of light. And if the shadows are of my own making, then let my face be hidden." Nienna looked at the flowing waters, not looking into her brother's eyes.  
  
"You are a lady of sorrow, and you are a lady beautiful. Your face should not be hidden from the world. Much of the essence of you can be seen in only your face, your sorrows and wisdom. One could learn much by just looking upon your face," Lorien touched her cheek.  
  
"You call me a lady of sorrow, and a lady beautiful. What wisdom could come from that?" Nienna continued to watch the water, still not looking into her brother's eyes.  
  
"Knowledge is knowledge, and wisdom is wisdom, one could live with one and not the other. One with knowledge and not wisdom could look upon you and say 'why does this lady mourn, for these sorrows have gone, and time goes by. Things are forgotten and life goes on.' But one of knowledge might not have wisdom, and one of wisdom might not have knowledge."  
  
"Then what of one with wisdom? What would they say of a lady of sorrow like me?" Nienna asked as she turned to meet Lorien's gaze.  
  
"There are many who dream, and I am the master of the dreams and visions. But wisdom can have many forms, and many ideas. I am but a master of dreams, and I could have my own voice on matters. But of wisdom my voice would be mine alone, for I do not know much of others voice in the matter, and I do not know what others of wisdom would say," Lorien looked at his sister.  
  
"But what else would you say?" Nienna gazed into his brother's eyes  
  
"Through you, there could be much healing, and depending upon the individual they could choose what they wish and they could interpret how they could. But there will be understanding, and there will be knowledge," Lorien took Nienna's hand into his own, and he noticed that they were cold.  
  
Nienna took his other hand, and through the warmth of him her hands were not that cold.  
  
Lorien continued to hold his sister's gaze, "With your tears, may you wash away the burdens. I do not know what more to say, but maybe Mandos would be of help. He perceives what he does, and his judgments are wise. You might receive answers from him, for he sees much into the souls of the Children."  
  
They rose and Lorien kissed his sister's brow, and Nienna headed for the Halls of Mandos.  
  
  
  
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Author's Note: This will be continued. I'm still wondering if I should make this 2 or 3 chapters. But I stopped this before I lose patience and make the rest very dull and the ending kind of inconclusive and forced, so I divided this into chapters so I have time to add in any other ideas I have for this fic. I think I'm going insane, I already have more ideas for fics based on the Valar. Before I know it, I'll have a whole bunch of fics for them.  
  
Please review, constructive criticism is welcome (actually it's wanted) 


	2. Mandos

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Tolkien owns and I'm not making any profit off of this  
  
Summary: Nienna ponders about purpose. Features Nienna, Lorien, and Mandos.  
  
Author's Note: Sorry I was so late in coming with this chapter.  
  
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Tears Falling  
  
Chapter 2- Mandos  
  
  
  
Leaving Lorien Nienna headed west, towards the Halls of Mandos, where her brother Namo dwelt. Nearing her brother's halls she felt the gloom that surrounded them. The skies were grey, as grey as the face death. The dreary clouds covered Anar and there was little light that shone upon the land.  
  
She entered the Halls and the dark vapors wrapped themselves around her. The works of Vaire she wondered at, and marveled at them. Vibrant and dull colors rested upon her, filling her vision with the doings of Time. Resting a hand upon the one of the black columns of jet, she was presented with the sight of the Noldor. They were proud and glorious, courageous and strong.  
  
She continued to walk on, until she reached the center of the halls, where the dews of Silpion were kept, the only light within the halls. Her brother was not there, and she suspected that he was with the soul of one of the houseless Elves. Waiting, she soon felt the presence of Mandos.  
  
"Nienna," Mandos greeted his sister, "you are no stranger to these halls, and you need not wait."  
  
"But I did not come as I normally would," Nienna told her brother. After a moments pause she asked, "With whom did you speak?"  
  
Mandos' dark grey eyes turned to the direction of her own, "the Spirit of Fire, Fëanor son of Finwe."  
  
Nienna remained silent, "what did he say?"  
  
"He is still the same, and he refuses to admit his wrongs," Mandos told his sister.  
  
"Does he know that only through surrender can his soul should be calmed? And that he need only to repent to be free of his burdens?" Nienna asked, for long had she mourned for the sorrows Fëanor had caused.  
  
"He has been told, but he does not understand, not yet," Mandos answered, "but Nienna, why did you come here if not to meet with the souls of the Elves?"  
  
"I have questions of my own," Nienna's voice was that of a ghost.  
  
"What of them?" Mandos asked softly.  
  
"I question of purpose."  
  
Mandos looked at his sister with questioning eyes, hardly noticeable.  
  
"You are the Judge of the souls of the Elves, and you house their wandering souls, Lorien is the master of dreams and visions, and I am the Weeper. What could come from me?"  
  
"Much can come from sorrow and compassion," Mandos replied.  
  
"True, but of purpose, and of wisdom?" Nienna continued to ask.  
  
"Purpose is closely intertwined with fate, and of wisdom there can be many interpretations."  
  
"Yes," and after a moment's pause she said, "I hear you and Ulmo have had some disagreements."*  
  
"We have," Mandos replied.  
  
"Why is that so?" Nienna asked, wondering, for she knew that Ulmo and Mandos' ideas would be somewhat similar.  
  
"He does not understand the Doom, and he does not truly comprehend the inevitability of fate, of the music," Mandos began, "Ulmo believes me to be a servant of the Doom, of which I am."  
  
"But of fate, what is our fate?" Nienna asked, not truly hoping for an answer.  
  
"Of that I do not know," Mandos knew the fates of the Elves, except for what Eru chose not to reveal to him.  
  
"Then what could you tell me?" Nienna inquired.  
  
"Not even I can see all ends, and of our fates, there is no clear rode."  
  
Nienna remained silent, thinking to herself.  
  
"Nienna, there is no shame in mourning, and there is no shame in tears. You know this, and yet you ask."  
  
"I know there is no shame in tears, in compassion, in sorrows. My questions now may seem naïve, but I wish to know why I mourn," Nienna looked at the columns of jet, the circling pattern upon them never seeming to end, and yet all things must come to an end, even the world would come to that.  
  
"You are full of compassion, maybe your sorrows and tears have brought that."  
  
"Maybe," was Nienna's reply.  
  
There was silence for a while, as the two Valar thought in silence. They were each pondering their own words, and the words of the other.  
  
"Mayhap," Mandos said, breaking the short moment of silence, "that we are much alike to the Children of Ilúvatar."  
  
Nienna turned to look at him.  
  
"To them, we may seem powerful and majestic, wise and full of answers. When in truth, we also have our questions, and we too seek answers."  
  
Nienna allowed the smallest of smiles to touch her lips, "maybe, all answers can come from Eru himself, and only Eru."  
  
"Then maybe you should speak with the One, we have strayed from his side, though we may not know it."  
  
"You are right." Nienna agreed. Maybe, the Ainur distanced themselves from the Creator, though they did not know it. Possibly, Manwë was the only one of them that was still close to Ilúvatar.  
  
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A/N -inconclusive ending, the next chapter will be the last. My brain doesn't want to cooperate with me, and my friend has my copy of the 'Silmarillion.' So I can't exactly research everything right now.  
  
  
  
Woman of the Dunedain: Thanks for reminding me about that! 


End file.
